


I Have A Mouth

by BearlyWriting



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Rescue, prompt: lost their voice from screaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 13:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18692929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: "Shiro's been screaming for hours."For the prompt "Lost Their Voice From Screaming" for the Bad Things Happen Bingo.





	I Have A Mouth

Shiro’s been screaming for hours.

Keith’s been pacing for almost as long.

It’s his fault that they’re in this situation in the first place. Keith had been the one to insist on responding to the distress call supposedly coming from one of the more obscure mamoran bases. Keith had been the one that had ignored the obvious signs of a trap and charged in half-baked even though they had no idea what might be waiting for them. Keith had been the one that the Galra had taken totally by surprise, had gripped around the neck and held a gun to, and forced the other Paladins to drop their weapons or risk splattering his brains across the walls.

Shiro was the one they had really been interested in.

They had shoved the paladins into a little airless cell, bordered on three sides by smooth metal, an energy barrier so thick that it’s impossible to see through on the other. The purple glow its throwing off is the only light afforded to them and it makes all of them look pale and grim, casting dark shadows across their faces: well, Lance and Hunk’s faces, Pidge and Keith are still wearing their helmets. 

Shiro is still wearing his as well, wherever he is. It’s the only reason Keith has any idea what’s happening to him, because the sound of their leader’s pain is loud and close through the comms. They must have left his helmet on for specifically that reason, because Keith can’t think of any other advantage it gives, besides torturing them.

It’s working. Keith thinks he might go crazy from listening to Shiro’s distress.

At first, they had all had their helmets on. They had listened intently to the comm feedback - to the quiet murmur of their captor’s voices, Shiro’s even breaths and snarky replies. Waiting for the moment they would slip up - reveal something they could use to get out of here. They had sneered at the fact that the galra had left them with the ability to talk to each other - something they had seen as an advantage. Lance had made Shiro laugh with some silly joke that Keith can’t even remember now.

Then Shiro had started screaming.

It had happened utterly without warning. One moment Pidge had been talking them through the control panel they could just make out through the haze of energy, then Shiro had screamed, impossibly loud through the comms. The sound had pierced right through Keith’s skull, rattled through his chest. For a moment he hadn’t been able to breathe.

Then there had been several people shouting at once.

“Shiro!”

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

Keith hadn’t been able to squeeze anything past the lump in his throat, but he had thrown himself at the energy wall, had beat it with his fists, even though each touch had sent electricity sparking through him, and the wall had been solid enough to bruise.

Shiro had only whimpered in response.

After that, he hadn’t stopped screaming long enough to whimper again.

Hunk had been the first one to take his helmet off. In the purple haze, he had looked alarmingly pale. For a moment, Keith had been worried that he might be sick, but Hunk had simply set his helmet aside and pressed his hands over ears, as if removing the helmet wasn’t enough to block out the sounds. Lance had almost immediately followed suit, and there had been guilty relief on his face as he clutched his helmet on his lap.

Keith had glanced at Pidge, and known she wouldn’t do the same.

That had been hours ago now.

Shiro isn’t really screaming anymore. Instead there’s a high, thin sound, like nails being scraped across a chalkboard. It hurts even worse than the screaming, Keith thinks, because it means that Shiro doesn’t even have the energy to do that anymore. And then the sound stops altogether, cut off with a wet choking noise.

Pidge sits bolt upright and her eyes find Keith’s. They’re shiny with tears, huge and round in her white face. They have been for a while, but there’s something sharp and urgent in them now. Keith’s own panic rises to meet it, bounding up his throat and tightening in his chest.

From somewhere in the distance there’s a roar. The whole building shudders.

“What was that?” Lance scrambles upright, knocking his helmet to the floor. “Was that Black? Did something happen?”

There’s another horrible rumble, shifting the ground beneath their feet. Lance clutches at Keith with bony fingers. “Did something happen on the comms?”

“It just went quiet.” 

Pidge scrambles upright too. Then she moves towards the energy barrier with purpose, stopping just before she touches the humming purple wall. It must be impossible to see anything through the haze and the visor of her helmet, but she peers through as if she can.

“Can you see anything?” Hunk asks, voice filtering through the comms now too. He’s put his helmet back on.

It’s still alarmingly quiet on Shiro’s end.

“No, I-“

An earth-shattering roar drowns her out. Black must be right above their heads now, and that knowledge sends something scurrying across Keith’s skin - Black would never hurt them, but the Lion’s aren’t always thinking straight when their paladins are hurt. All the little hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand on end.

He manages to pull Lance to the ground before the ceiling collapses over their heads.

For a long moment all Keith can register is the crashing of debris, like thunder around him, as he crouches, half-thrown over Lance. Something slams into his shoulder hard enough to tear a cry of pain out of him and then everything goes abruptly still.

Keith can hear Lance breathing heavily beside him in the sudden silence. Someone else’s ragged breaths are loud through the comms too; Keith can’t tell if they’re Shiro’s or not.

“Lance?” There’s shifting somewhere nearby. “Keith?”

“We’re here,” Lance calls, a little shakily, as Keith starts to struggle free from the rubble. It doesn’t take long once Hunk reaches them, digging them out almost single-handedly. When Keith finally surfaces he finds the Yellow Paladin pale beneath his helmet, a chunk of ceiling still cradled in his arms. Pidge is still crouching by the energy wall. The energy wall that no longer exists.

Lance must come to the realisation at the same time because he crows, “It’s gone,” so loudly that Keith’s ears ring.

“The damage must have disabled it.” Pidge straightens up and surveys the half-collapsed frame. When she looks back at them, her eyes are bright under her visor. 

“What are we waiting for then?” Keith growls, already clambering over the rubble. “Lets go and get him.”

“Wait.”

But Keith ignores Hunk. The silence from Shiro’s end of the comms presses hard and cold against his skin. If he doesn’t find Shiro soon, it will crush him. 

“Wait, guys. We don’t have any weapons or any idea where they’re even keeping Shiro. Charging in half-cocked is what got us into this situation in the first place.”

Fingers brush against Keith’s armour, but he shakes them off, turning to Hunk with a snarl. He’s right - of course he’s right - but that only makes Keith angrier. Who knows what torture the Galra have been subjecting Shiro to whilst the other paladins have sat pretty in their cell? Who knows why he suddenly stopped screaming? Why Black chose that moment to attack?

Every second they waste is another second that Shiro is in danger.

But Hunk is right: running through a Galra base with no weapons and no clue where they’re even going is a terrible idea - as likely to get them recaptured as it is to get Shiro rescued.

_Patience yields focus._

So Keith swallows his automatic frustration and turns to face the other paladins instead.

Hunk offers a watery smile. “OK, does anyone have a plan?”

 

***

 

They find Shiro exactly where Pidge’s hastily constructed map had said he would be. Finding their weapons had been slightly more difficult, but now Keith’s bayard is gripped tight in his fist, his mamoran blade a comforting weight beneath his armour.

Now Keith smashes his bayard against the sentry that had been standing guard over Shiro and watches it crumple to the ground with vicious satisfaction.

Pidge and Hunk work quickly on the cuffs holding Shiro in place against the cold metal table as Lance takes up position by the door, his own bayard gripped tight in his hands.

Their leader is still dressed in his uniform, helmet and all, and at first glance, there’s nothing obviously wrong with him. His visor is up, showing his pale face, damp with sweat, the scar across his nose stark against his skin. Shiro’s eyes are open too, which is a surprise. They track each paladin as they move around him.

When Hunk finally manages to release the cuffs holding him in place, Shiro bolts upright as if electrocuted, fumbles with his helmet until he can drag it over his head, then just sits for a long moment, panting into his lap. Sweat presses his hair flat against his head, dark and slick. But other than that there are no obvious signs of his torture. Other than the fine tremor that’s mostly hidden by his armour.

“Shiro?” Keith reaches for him automatically. The Black Paladin flinches, but he doesn’t shake Keith off.

“What happened?” Hunk asks, reaching for Shiro too and laying a broad hand across his back. “We heard-“

A pause. Then Shiro makes an odd, strangled sound, gagging around nothing. Blood splatters across his chin, dark and wet against the glove of his armour when he reaches up to press a hand against his throat.

Keith’s stomach clenches painfully. That’s not good. Coughing up blood is decidedly not good.

“Shit.” And suddenly Lance is very close behind him. “Shit, Shiro.”

They’re crowding too close around him. The Black Paladin’s shoulders are tense, hunched up around his ears. Keith wants to tell them to back off, but he’s crowding Shiro just as much as they are.

“Are you hurt?” Pidge asks, as if she hasn’t just listened to hours of Shiro screaming, as if Shiro hasn’t just choked up blood. “How badly are you injured?”

Another long pause as Shiro breathes, ragged, wet pants that sound as though they hurt coming up. When Shiro finally looks up, his eyes are glazed, staring blankly, as if he’s looking right through them.

“‘M fine,” he says, finally - or tries to. The word strangles in his throat. Comes out sounding as though he’s been gargling broken glass. Keith winces at the sound of it. Sees Hunk do the same on Shiro’s other side.

The fingers of his prosthetic flutter at the hollow of his throat as Shiro grimaces around the pain. There’s a dry, rattling sound, like Shiro’s trying to clear his throat, then he flinches, gags.

Keith’s hand tightens automatically around Shiro’s arm and the Black Paladin throws him an apologetic look.

“S’rry,” he tries. The word comes out on an awful rasp of air.

“Don’t talk. Let's just get you back to the castle.”

Shiro’s mouth moves, throat working, as if he wants to say something else. Nothing comes out. When Keith tugs gently on his arm Shiro allows himself to be guided off of the table. Allows Hunk to duck under his arm and take most of his weight. It’s disconcerting, seeing Shiro sag so easily against the Yellow Paladin’s side - he must be hurting badly. The thought makes Keith’s own throat ache.

He wonders again, exactly what the Galra were doing to Shiro. It’s not a pleasant thought to linger on.

Keith hovers close to Shiro as Hunk helps him stumble out of the room. Part of him wants to grasp Shiro’s arm again, but Hunk has his flesh hand slung over his shoulders, and the prosthetic is tucked tight against Shiro’s chest. Instead Keith just grips his bayard tighter, flanking them as Pidge moves to lead the way and Lance slips in to protect their backs.

It’s surprisingly easy to navigate back through the hallways. Most of the base must be preoccupied with the Black Lion, who is still causing trouble if the distant rumbles are anything to go by.

Still, it’s impossible to totally avoid detection - they’re a large group and they’re moving slowly. When they round one of the many twisting corners they run right into a group of sentries moving quickly towards them. Lance has taken two of them out before any of them even realise what’s happening and Pidge takes down another, but there are four left and Hunk can’t hold his bayard with only one hand. Keith moves to intercept them as they barrel towards them but even he can’t take on four at once and the move puts him too close to the line of fire for Lance to get a good shot off. Hunk tries to twist away as one of the sentries lunges for him but suddenly Shiro is moving and his prosthetic clashes against the sentry’s weapon with a screech of metal.

The tip of Keith’s bayard slides under one of the sentry’s outstretched arm and straight through its chest. At the same time, Shiro separates his sentry’s head from its chest with a brilliant flash of purple.

Two left. Keith spins, then: “Keith!”

The name sounds as though it’s been punched out of Shiro. An awful, painful rasp. It’s strained, as if it’s trying to be a shout but can’t manage it. In fact, Keith only hears it because he and Shiro are so close.

Luckily he does hear it, because he just manages to avoid one of the last sentries trying to take off his head. Keith brings his blade up just in time, then Pidge ducks in and takes it out with a quick thrust of her taser, whilst Lance dispatches the final one with brisk efficiency.

When all of the sentries are lying in a heap of robotic body parts, Keith turns to Shiro. The Black Paladin looks even paler than before, as if the exertion of lighting his prosthetic has drained any of the remaining energy from him. He’s still slumped against Hunk, who holds him upright with surprising ease. The pain on his face twists something deep in Keith’s chest.

Shiro offers him a thin lipped smile.

“Goo-“

“Don’t talk,” Hunk reprimands him, before he can get much more than a rattle out of his torn-up throat.

Keith winces anyway.

 

***

 

When they finally get to the castle, Shiro refuses a pod.

“No,” he says, even though it comes out as a rasp, even though he’s still slung over Hunk’s shoulders. He pulls against the Yellow Paladin’s grip. Shakes his head. There’s something feverish about his expression - eyes wide and glazed, as if he isn’t quite seeing them. “Not-“

“Come on Shiro, you’re hurt.”

But Shiro just shakes his head, back and forth, as if he can’t stop it. “‘M fine.”

“No you’re not Shiro.” Lance’s voice is plaintive where Keith’s would have been harsh. “You were - we heard you screaming. Please just get in the pod.”

Shiro flinches at that and a horrible flash of guilt crosses his face. As if it’s his fault that any of this happened. As if it’s his fault that the Galra had spent hours torturing him. Lance flinches too, looking horrified.

“He’s right Shiro,” Pidge interjects. “They hurt you.”

“Th’y didn-“

“Shiro-“

“No.” It must hurt, because it sounds awful - grating up his throat. But Shiro doesn’t so much as wince this time.

“OK Number One.” Coran steps forward before Shiro can force more words out. “If you don’t want to get in the pod, you don’t have to. We aren’t going to force you. But if you are injured you need to tell us.”

For a long moment, Shiro stays tense, his eyes flickering around the room, as if he’s worried they’ll descend on him the moment he lets his guard down. It hurts, to be regarded with such suspicion. It hurts more, knowing exactly why Shiro feels he might need it.

“Please,” Keith tries, a little desperately. “You would expect the same from us.”

That seems to set something loose, and Shiro slumps suddenly against Hunk’s side. For a moment there’s strained exhaustion on his face, before he schools it into something less obviously pained.

Keith hates that.

“Let's get you a little more comfortable, then I’ll give you a quick once over.” Coran’s voice is gentle as he helps ease Shiro off of Hunk’s shoulder and onto one of the metal tables. At first, Shiro fights that too before he finally slumps against the metal.

Either Shiro’s too exhausted to protest the rest of the examination, or he genuinely doesn’t mind Coran prodding and poking and shining various lights at him, because he stays still and mostly silent as he does so. Eventually Coran concludes that there’s no real physical damage at all, besides his throat - and Keith tries very hard not to think about what they might have done to Shiro to cause him so much pain without any evidence left behind - and Coran offers a soothing spray to try to help it heal.

When Shiro swallows wetly, smiles, and offers a: “Thanks,” he already sounds better.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat, or to request a Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt!


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